


Something Almost Pure

by blind_bombshell



Series: Auntie Crickette's Bedtime Stories [4]
Category: Basic Instinct (Movies), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Madancy Multiverse - Fandom, Mænd & høns | Men & Chicken (2015)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Extended Universe, Hobbiton, I'm Sorry Tolkien, Inspired by Fanart, JRR Tolkien's estate is gonna sue me, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, OOC, Oral Sex, Please Don't Hate Me, Resolved Sexual Tension, So sue me, Tolkien References, hobbit au, yes I named the dottering aunt after myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-08 07:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blind_bombshell/pseuds/blind_bombshell
Summary: Adam Towers is set to inherit a sizeable tract of land and thus must make nice with his dear old auntie while she lives -- but she's gone and hired a handyman from North Ork Oak that, quite frankly, Adam can't wait to devour.(Aka. the Basic Chickens Hobbit AU fic)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CamilleFlyingRotten](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=CamilleFlyingRotten).



> I've officially lost control of my life.
> 
> I would like to thank Camille for inspiring me and for making the #BabyBullFest so I could feel safe enough to post this un-beta'd nonsense.
> 
> Please forgive me for the sex (well, masturbation in this chapter) as I'm a delicate flower and an incondite author... and, well, just forgive me.

Auntie Cricket’s afternoon tea parties are, beyond any doubt, the dullest thing that could ever possibly happen on a Wednesday. And that is also considering it’s a Wednesday which, by most accounts, are typically dull affairs, themselves. This is a fact that most hobbits do not even attempt to refute even in polite company.

Being a tween (that is, a hobbit between the ages of thirteen and thirty-three), no one expected Adam Towers to do anything or create a lasting impression upon anyone at this age in his life, but as he’s her only living nephew (amongst a veritable _sea_ of nieces) it was considered at least good manners to make an appearance at her semi-monthly tea parties. An “appearance” in Hobbiton parlance meant at least one cup of tea, one sandwich, a sweetie, and perhaps a digestive biscuit accompanied with an optional second cup of tea before one could bow out politely.

Which wouldn’t be so bad, after all, (again, _Wednesday)_ if they weren’t so _often._

With a plate of biscuits and tiny fruit custard tarts in one hand and an over-honeyed teacup in the other, Adam attempted to find an empty seat somewhere in the plush, cozy parlor. He frowned intensely at the sheer amount of over-stuffed furniture shoved into the small, cramped room that was cascaded with both natural light and throw pillows. He should have blown this off, like he had the last two months or so, but a particularly politely scathing letter from her the previous week had not made him feel guilty, exactly, but it was obvious that a visit was over-due.

He was beginning to regret attending, however.

Movement from the corner of his eye drew his attention to a blessedly unoccupied spindle-legged pouf and hurried over to it as neatly as he could manage (nearly upsetting dozing cousin Sam’s propped-up feet and his own tea in the process), narrowly beating out three others for the privilege. He smirked in triumph, his eyes all faux innocence as those other hobbits he had defeated in the Brief Round of the Settee sulked on to find ease elsewhere. He’d just taken to mind to his tea when Diamond Townsend and May Boffin made their tittering way around him and to the open window just a scant few paces away. Their arms were inexorably linked, as was per, their curly heads nearly touching as they whispered zealously to each other, plainly a-twitter over some sort of gossip.

“He’s from the North Ork Oak,” Diamond was saying, barely containing her glee, “Hilda told me all about it up at the Bracegirdle-Brandybuck wedding party a fortnight ago. His family are _farmers_. Of cheese and chicken.”

May twisted around, chortling, the flounces of her skirt brushing the tops of Adam’s feet as she did so, and he feigned extreme interest in his pie so they would feel safe enough to continue. “ _Cheese?_ And _chicken?_ ”

“Apparently so!”

May sighed incredulously in a manner that was halfway convincing before she broke out into a fit of giggles. “What on green Middle Earth?”

“He has several brothers, they all have some sort of… disease, I think, she was saying they weren’t quite right. Some sort of magic when they were seeding, or something. I think it was probably some magic with the milk, but what do I know. _Anyway_ , Hilda was saying that Miss Spinster Cricket was up in North Ork Oak looking for a new coop and came home not just with that but six wheels of cheese, four chickens, a rooster, _and_ a handyman.” There was a distinct, though muffled, crash in the garden that startled them both. Once they registered what it was, or rather _who,_ they began giggling again, eyes shining mischievously at one another.

“I’ll say one thing,” May managed eventually, sounding decidedly more prim and matronly than her age would otherwise suggest, “Even dear old Cricket will have time turning _that_ sow’s ear into a silk purse.”

 _A new hobbit?_ Adam mulled to himself, _From ORK no less! Whatever was dear old Aunt Cricket doing all the way out there?_

Of course, it had been a month or two or three since Adam had last been to one of his aunt’s teas and, luckily for him, not much had changed in the interim. The same crowd of gossiping, sniping hobbits were in attendance, as always. Auntie Cricket said it kept her keen on what’s what and the who’s who and, really, he almost admired the old bird for her patience with these gabbers. These hobbits would more likely make snide remarks about the heat than put out someone on fire. 

Adam took a sip of his tea and accidentally made eye contact with Melilot Brandybuck, a few chairs away. She gave him a bright, inviting smile that showed off her dimples – far and wide her best feature, everyone agreed. He returned the smile blandly and looked away. He’d learned early how to recognize hobbits who considered him on par with a mantelpiece than the bedroom. Or even the parlor. He avoided them with the skill borne of one who’d been a prime catch before he’d even left his patched pants of childhood behind. “Never take a baited hook, regardless of the lure” was his motto. His personal proclivities ran in most directions and while he was more than a little happy to indulge in some mild to moderate flirtation, or perhaps even a fling (and, truth be told, found it quite enjoyable for all parties involved), he also knew that Melilot had her sights set on marriage and that was a risk Adam wasn’t willing to make. In fact, if he could be the only Mister and never find a Missus, he wouldn’t complain. A life-long bachelor, like Frodo or even Bilbo. Sure, they’d had their adventures outside of the Shire, and maybe one day Adam would, too. After all, there’s only so much joy one can find in these parts.

Officially bored, now that he knew the gossip fountain was dry, and wondering how early was too early to bow out the back door, Adam raised a mini crostata di frutta to his lips, bit into it, and paused for a good half minute in a flavor symphony. Usually, “bland” “horrid” and “barely palatable” would be the first descriptors that sprang into Adam’s mind when thinking of the food served at Aunt Cricket’s parties. Her cook had the barest hint of talent coupled with modest skill and zero imagination, and Aunt Cricket was more than content to let her bear the brunt of the work for the parties (Cricket preferring to save her own culinary skills for those closest to her heart than her brain). But this? A voluptuous hum vibrated through his throat and tickled his lips, a pleasure more intense than that he’d felt in… frankly, it was too upsetting to think about when he could be marveling at the tartlet at hand. The pastry was so buttery, so flaky, it practically melted on the tongue. The tartness of the cherries and strawberries was perfectly counter-balanced by the richness of the creamy, sweet custard.

Within a scant few minutes, Adam had picked his plate clean, each delicacy a revelation in hedonism he didn’t think his spinster aunt was quite capable of having, let alone providing. He had been wrong, after all. In the interim since his last visit, something important _had_ changed. His aunt had either decided to do the cooking herself, or had hired a new cook! He thought it over for a moment, thinking back to the girls’ chatter from before – could the handyman have a hand in this?

He stared at his pie-less plate, debating the wisdom of licking a finger and scouring it for spare crumbs (it’d be a pity to let them go to waste, after all, but it would be a _tad_ unseemly) when he was interrupted from his thoughts by the front door banging open, knocking an end table over and nearly upsetting a valance in its wake. A pair of feet appeared in Adam’s line of sight. Shapely, strong feet covered with a thick nest of curling hair of a rich golden brown that spread well above the ankles. Adam’s eyes slowly travelled upward, making note of the well-muscled calves and thick, powerful-looking thighs that filled out tight, fawn-colored breeches almost obscenely. His breath caught as he saw something else that filled those tight breeches. It was difficult to pull his eyes away from the impressive bulge sitting there, daring him to look at it, but he managed to blink away and move his perusal upwards. Large, strong hands held tightly to a bundle of firewood, forearms bulging as the hobbit behind them huffed and knocked the door closed with a clumsy, awkward shuffled foot. He took a sharp turn to the left, leaving Adam with a distinct impression of a mop of close-curled hair and thick biceps before they were gone.

He frowned, puzzled, and went to investigate, the titterings of Diamond and May fairly chasing him out of the room. He just barely could hear Diamond’s exclamation of, “What did I tell you –“ before he shut the door firmly between himself and the livingroom, leaving him in the kitchen. He sighed against the door, glad for the respite from the chatter, before turning around and finding himself nearly nose-to-nose with a stranger.

Broad and hook-nosed, it would likely be called “plain” by most rather than handsome, with a harelip ill-disguised by a moustache that almost called attention to it rather than detracted from. Most _fools_ more like, Adam decided, taking in that upper lip that protruded slightly from the scar, as if it were a blatant invitation to be lavished with kisses and love-bites. The strong chin speaking of defiance, high cheek bones drawing attention to a thick swirl of curls atop his head, the same golden brown as his feet. It was an unusual color, to be certain, just starting to be infringed with grey, but offset the tanned color of his skin quite well. At last, Adam met his gaze and a bolt of lust struck him and a pleasurable ache invaded his groin as the most beautiful golden-whiskey-colored eyes widened slightly, as though surprised. In fact, the hobbit looked stricken and Adam couldn’t help but relate. He breathed heavily through his nose, his hand covering his mouth unwittingly when he’d turned and been startled by the, quite tall for a hobbit, handyman in the kitchen.

 _Here’s a good creature of sun and earth,_ he thought, and he wanted to feel the heat of that sun and plough that earth, wanted it with an intensity that he’d scarcely felt for anything in life. He knew in that instant that he must have this hobbit, warts and all. And, really, hadn’t Adam just been mired in boredom, afraid he was becoming jaded? A different type of excitement thrummed through his limbs then, the anticipation of a hunter preparing to pursue the most delightful of game.

 _You’ve officially gone around the bend, Adam Towers,_ the voice of his conscience scolded, _seducing a SERVANT who works for your AUNT._

And while it was true, that Adam normally avoided… complications, shall we say, preferring to pilfer his own caste for bedmates, where the rules of seduction were plain and evident to everyone involved and there could be no mistaking a tumble for an act of coercion. He was, after all, set to inherit quite a sizeable sum and wasn’t hurting for comforts that all hobbits naturally desire. Despite his age, he did hold some power and influence within The Shire. Cousin Sam was always at him to mind his manners, and treat those of a lesser station better than he would like. Cousin Sam, after all, had been of the labor force himself until Frodo left him and his family everything and took off for the Undying Lands with Bilbo. Adam was trained well and would never abuse that power or take advantage of those of a lower station, especially not when people of his station and higher were so much more fun to tease.

Then, however, the other hobbits gaze dropped to Adam’s hand, and he realized he still had it over his mouth. Well, in for a farthing. His conscience rallied against him as he slowly stuck his thumb in his mouth, tasting of buttery crumbs, and relinquished it with a rude sound, licking his red lips. (He wasn’t dumb, he knew what he looked like.) He smiled, a warm and inviting smile not unlike the one he’d received in the parlor. “That,” he said as low, sultry, and breathless as he could manage without over-doing it, “was quite delicious. Are you the one I’m to thank?”

The other hobbit’s cheeks (and ears! How delightful) flushed. He swallowed thickly, looking down at Adam’s mouth, back to his eyes, then back to his mouth as though he didn’t know where to look.

Adam smirked. This may be easier than he thought. Although…

The man just stood there, breathing hard and flushed as a berry, so Adam tried again. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

That seemed to snap him out of it. “Yes, of course, I would think if you had seen me before you would remember. I would remember meeting you, I should think.”

Adam cleared his throat, still overly aware of how close they were, and the other hobbit seemed to realize he was crowding Adam against the door and took a minute step back. And then another. And then suddenly, he was on the opposite side of the large table in the middle of the kitchen, almost hidden behind some copper pots. “Yes. Well. Are you the one who made today’s fare? Those tartlets are absolutely divine.”

The other hobbit raked a hand nervously through his hair, nodding vigorously, and looking more uncomfortable by the minute. “Yes, well, Miss Cricket recognizes talent when she sees it. Why shouldn’t she? I cooked and cleaned for all my brothers back in North Ork, it isn’t surprising it would carry over here to a house with only one lady. Not very pretty, not that I mind that, and she’s obviously got good taste, why else would she hire me?”

Adam walked, sauntered, really, up to the table and put his hands down on the edge. “You don’t need to be so nervous, you know.”

Again with the nodding and the raking of the hair, but this time he started pacing. “I’ve been here for nearly a month, now, and it’s probably the best house I’ve ever been --” he then took on the distinct look of someone who said more than they meant to and was now literally biting their tongue to prevent more words from escaping.

 _Almost a month!_ This was absurd. This jittery, delectable slice of hobbit had been here for almost an entire month and he hadn’t known. Adam vowed to make up for lost time as soon as possible. Preferably somewhere soft.

Adam hummed in the back of his throat, “It appears my aunt has found herself a treasure.”

“Well I don’t know about that,” the hobbit reddened even more, stumbling over himself before pretending to be aloof near the adjacent door jamb across from where Adam was still leaning against the table, feeling coiled like a cat about to pounce. “It’s nothing fancy, it’s not even the best thing I’ve ever made, you should taste some of my cheeses, they’re the best in Middle Earth, no one else could even come close.”

“Ah yes, but sometimes… plain fare can be exactly what one needs, what one even craves the most.” He looked down again at the impressive bulge that seemed to be protruding even more, even as he looked at it. He sighed, mouth slightly open, tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. Even if this hobbit was all balls, he had to be hiding something… lovely… in those breeches. He swallowed, mouth still agape, tongue gently moving forward to prod his teeth as he sucked in another breath and the hobbit (dammit, he couldn’t keep calling him that) across from him made a noise not unlike a stifled groan that he desperately tried to cover up with a hand to his mouth, looking like he was about to shove it down his throat any moment. His eyes were dark, now, the late afternoon light and the effects of this conversation starting to show. Adam batted his eyelashes and smiled. “Tell me, what is your name?”

“Harfoot!” Auntie Cricket’s voice boomed into the room as she entered, exasperated, her face flushed and ample bosom heaving. She was dressed in her tea party best, hair mostly loose and threaded with baby’s breath and daisies. “Ah, and Adam, how are you, dear, so good to see you,” she said almost in one breath before she turned to her hired man, “Harfoot, we need more biscuits in the front room, see to it.”

“Excuse me, sir,” the flustered hobbit said, too loudly, looking relieved as he hurried away, upsetting a few oranges and a canister in his haste.

Auntie Cricket sighed, hands on her hips before hopping to and setting the kitchen to rights again. Adam, though, Adam watched him go, bringing his still-damp thumb to his lips and biting the nail thoughtfully. “Harfoot” was a common enough name, he supposed, but undoubtedly he’d found the one May and Diamond had been discussing. Trust his aunt to find such a man and give him a job. That accent that clung to his syllables had poured over Adam like warm water and he could just imagine how soft and deep that voice could sound in passion. He had to know the hobbit’s given name – he would not call him “Harfoot” when he bedded him, after all.

His aunt came over, fussed with his clothes, pecked his cheek, and left him with a peach tartlet in one hand and an apple one in the other. He ducked his head, amused she was still convinced he was “much too thin, sweetheart” even though he was nearly out of his tweens by now and much past the age when he needed someone to feed him. He devoured the peach tartlet with aplumb and set out to find his tea.

He strolled around the room, playing nice with his numerous acquaintances and relations, keeping a close (casual) eye upon Harfoot as he came and went. Bringing out more food, clearing away detritus, and generally being helpful to the point he was practically a nuisance. His aunt was soft with him, though, even when he was a bit too brusque with her guests, and seemed to be guiding him along fairly well. He could tell the hobbit was stubborn as they come, and rude to boot, but he took Cricket’s word to heart and seemed determined to keep his position in her house. Whatever she’d done, perhaps even made cousin Sam give the Harfoot a talking to, it had worked.

Half a dozen times, his eyes found Adam’s, as if drawn to there by some unnamable force, and he would blush and look away immediately. Adam preened and kept up appearances on his side of the room. That Harfoot was interested, make no mistake.

As Adam made the rounds, he couldn’t help but notice there were other sets of eyes other than his own following that sturdy, tanned form. He was not alone, after all, in appreciating the hobbit’s various… assets. Truth be, however, he didn’t mind in the least. It added a level of complexity to the game, new excitement to the hunt, to know it was a competition. Nothing worth anything could ever be easy, and made the winning all the sweeter to know that others had lost.

At long last, Adam made his way to where his Aunt Cricket had found respite. Quite a few of the guests had already made their leave and the late afternoon light was fading into evening, now, and soon it would be time for dinner. “Quite a good show, Aunt Crick,” he said earnestly, perching himself on the arm of the sofa and swinging one leg back and forth, sinking his teeth into a peach. “Probably the best party you’ve had in ages.”

Aunt Cricket eyed him suspiciously, and was right to do so. Adam gave compliments to his family sparingly, if at all, and was prone to tricks and teases rather than the truth. She patted the seat next to hers and he went obediently, suddenly aware one could see the entire front room and parlor from this one spot, and yet not be glimpsed so easily, themselves. He was struck with the idea that perhaps he and his aunt had more in common than he’d previously suspected… bile rising slightly as his mind immediately took that train too far past its station.

“I hope that means I’ll be able to see you more often, nephew, you know I don’t have that many good years left in me.”

Adam chuckled. “Aunt Crick, you’ve been fading since Frodo was a lad.”

She pinched his ear before putting her hand down on his shoulder kindly, “Aye, so don’t you think I’m due?”

He laughed. “I think that you’re ridiculous. But I do believe I can assure you I will be by more often,” he took another bite of his peach, juice starting to scurry down his arm. “Not the least for the food, now that you’ve let old Marigold go. Your new handyman is extraordinary, aunt.”

She hummed in agreement, looking thoughtful. “He’s a quick learner, I’ll give him that. Showed him a few recipes and he was off like a switch. You gotta know how to talk to him, of course, he’s not used to kindness, but once you get a handle on him, it’s not so difficult. Really, when I went up to Ork Oak for that chicken coop, living with his slovenly brothers in a rundown… nevermind, the point is, I knew at once that child’s talents were going to be wasted there. He’s a ball of potential, Adam, as are you.”

Adam huffed, out of the corner of his eye he could see Harfoot bending down to pick up a knife or something or other someone had carelessly strewn to the floor. Muscular buttocks were clearly displayed within the tight fawn breeches, it was positively indecent. Wasted, indeed, no one out in Ork but a few farm families, no reason to go out there at all. It seemed for the first time ever, Adam was grateful for his aunt’s chickens.

“He didn’t want to come, of course, he’s so dedicated to his family, his brothers. But the eldest, Gabriel, was amenable to letting him go, once we’d settled on a salary so that they could hire on someone to replace him. Honestly, I see it as a step-up in the world for him. Get him into a town with good people, well, _any_ people he’s not related to, really, and give him a way to prove himself. That’s all a hobbit needs, anyway.” Aunt Cricket frowned deeply, straightening up in her seat before continuing, brightly, “That Lily and Rose of Samwise’s made some sort of nonsense about his accent but honestly I think it’s charming. He knows more than one tongue, and that’s more than I can say of most people in these parts. And I know with time and effort those rougher parts of his personality can be softened into something a little more… sociable.”

Adam had basically quit listening after she said “tongue” and his thoughts returned to that luscious armful of hobbit that was still making the rounds, clearing tables and undrunk tea service. “Elias, darling, as soon as you’re done with that, please take a moment for yourself. I won’t be running you ragged, you did just fine for your first time.” _Elias_ nodded and quickly went into the kitchen and shut the door firmly.

 _Elias._ Adam felt his heart flutter and his gut tighten. So, that was his name. Adam didn’t linger after this discovery, it being too soon to pursue sweet Elias in earnest. He wouldn’t be luring him out to the hay pile or some remote corner of the orchard for this fella, no matter how much he wanted it. He could tell _Elias_ would require some finesse. Besides, the pleasurable ache he’d been feeling on and off for the better part of an hour was becoming painful, especially with images in his mind of himself straddling a gobsmacked Elias in some field, rutting in the sun, and he needed some relief.

He took his leave and made his way to the door, and had the distinct impression someone was watching him. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it was, as he suspected, Elias with the kitchen door opened just enough to peer through at his departure. He somehow looked lonely, though Adam could only see his eye, and Adam wondered if he was imagining Elias’ disappointment or if he was simply projecting his own. He hoped not. _I’ll be back, Elias Harfoot, don’t you fret,_ Adam silently vowed as he opened the front door and stepped out into the bright summer sunshine.

He had a moment’s thought of finding someone down at the inn to scratch the proverbial itch but couldn’t bother to follow through with it. He’d settle for only Elias, sweet honey-nut Elias, and that was a fact. Though whatever would happen after that would be anyone’s guess, and that was a problem for the future, anyhow.

Adam walked briskly in the direction of his home for perhaps half a mile, then turned into a small grove of beech trees. It was increasingly evident he was aroused and it was damned uncomfortable attempting to walk and be decent with a full cock. He could scarcely recall a time in recent memory when he’d been this desperate for release and relished in it, delighted to have something that finally piqued his interest after months of steadily increasing dissatisfaction with sex.

When he felt he was deep enough within the grove, shaded and far from the road, he found temporary relief from the buzzing, inexorable ache in his loins against a slender beech tree. He wrapped his arms around the smooth grey bark, spread his legs, and dragged his hips back and forth against the hardness of the trunk, imagining it was the thigh of Elias Harfoot. He pressed rhythmically, increasing in speed, almost frantic with it – but he didn’t want to come inside his clothes and soil them. One, he was not a burgeoning lad anymore and two – he knew it would make for an even more unpleasant walk back home than meandering with a stiff cock ever could. He turned so that his back was against the tree and undid the buttons at the front of his breeches, shoving both breeches and smallclothes to his knees and taking himself in-hand. He bowed his legs and moaned, stuffing the ball of his hand into his mouth as the smooth trunk did pleasing things with the sensitive area between his arse cheeks. He rubbed up and down a few times, not much unlike a bear with an itch, simply holding onto his cock as he explored the smooth bumps and prods and knots of the tree behind him. He exposed the glans at the head of his cock, fairly wet and nearly dripping with it now, and finally gave into the desire to _stroke_. He leaned his head back, exposing his neck to the glen around him, pretending it was resting on Elias’ shoulder as he teased Adam from behind with his cock. A handful of strokes was all it took before his hand flew out of his mouth and grasped the tree behind him as his back arched and he came in long spurts, shooting past his feet with the intensity of his orgasm. He laughed, delighted, shaking, before pulling his trousers and short clothes just enough so that he could slide (to another side) of the tree and rest for a moment.

If just _thinking_ of Elias could do this to him… what would the actual hobbit be like once he had him? His cock gave a feeble twitch at that and he smiled, finally taking his hand out of his breeches and wiping it clean (well, clean _er_ ) against the surrounding green leaves and doing up his trousers. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he needed to have Elias. Hopefully, soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam still really wants Elias, but he doesn't want to look too eager. 
> 
> Elias is just trying to do a good job, dammit.
> 
> Aunt Cricket is already entirely too amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I mentioned this before, but Elias' last name "Harfoot" is a very generic, very old hobbit name & means "hairy feet" - I swear. 
> 
> Thank you again to Camille for having the BabyBullFest - at the bottom of the fic is one of her hobbit!Adam/Elias drawings I fell in love with and inspired this fic.
> 
> Also... I kind of feel like, at this point, I'm just writing Adam masturbating with vague notions towards a plot and I don't know how I feel about that.

Ten days. A week and a half. The most difficult stretch of days Adam had faced in quite some time. He thought of little else but Elias and looked for him everywhere when he was out about town, but it was all for naught. He didn't see hide nor hair of the nervous hobbit, and very nearly called upon his aunt just to see him. A few times, he’s ashamed to say, he would start walking to her home and change course halfway through to go into town, instead. It would be very odd, if not overtly suspicious, if he just showed up at her home unannounced. While they had a cordial relationship and, as a lad, he would often make the trek out to visit her whenever the whim suited him, it would be very strange for him to suddenly start popping-in these days. The last thing he wanted was to appear unsavory and get his aunt’s guard up. He didn't think she would protest to him taking an interest in her handyman, but he didn't want to risk it, either.

However, today was Saturday, and he’d sent a missive on Thursday to Aunt Cricket indicating that he would be stopping by on his way to Old Town for a party being held by Bingo Cotton to celebrate the blooming of his latest crop of sunflowers. It was always an excellent party, with fantastic ale, plump pastries, and juicy wines. And, if Adam were to be honest, usually the site of at least one delicious tumble with some hobbit or other from across the way. Besides, he knew his aunt had a love for Bingo Cotton’s sunflower oil and getting a deal with the hobbit for some of his harvest always spiked his favor.

Adam took measured care with his absolutions, bathing in rose water and delicately oiling his skin to protect it from the sun, then powdering himself – particularly in moisture-prone areas – with some elderflower-corn flour. He used some wax to make his loose curls shine and chose a certain cornflower-blue satin waistcoat that was embroidered with silver thread that he’d heard, from more than one admirer, made his eyes sparkle like rare Dwarven jewels.

He arrived in the late afternoon, avoiding most the heat of the day, and Cricket eyed him with some amazement, though she did hide it well, when he bent over her hand. “Well, this is certainly a surprise, Adam, I had half a mind you wouldn't show up at all. I know Cotton’s party is one of your favorites,” she said with the air of someone who is quite certain they’re being manipulated but isn't quite certain how, yet. “You usually skip right past here and stop in on your way home, in a day or so after.”

Adam chuckled, following her inside. “First you tell me you want me to visit, now you’re ushering me out the door. Do you have a gentleman caller, auntie?”

She giggled and slapped his arm playfully, “You, my child, are incorrigible.”

He shrugged. “That’s what they tell me.” He spun artfully around the front room before facing his aunt again, traveling jacket billowing around him and then snapping his heels. “What do you think, too much for old Cotton?”

She laughed again, waving her hand towards the hall, “Go on and hang your coat up, I’ll be at the table when you decide you want tea.”

He fairly flounced out of the room, feeling lighter on his feet than he had in ages. Today, he decided, was a very good day. On his way back to his aunt, he spotted Elias emerging from the kitchen with a large tray filled with all sorts of delicious things. Rather than a plain cream colored shirt, however, he was wearing a white shirt with a white vest, threaded with gold with brass buttons. His trousers, however, appeared to be the same fawn breeches as before, though clean this time around. He was a vision, like balm to a burn or water for thirst. “Ah, there you are, Elias,” he chirped winningly. Elias froze momentarily before walking to the table, seemingly to fight a strong wind the entire way. Adam approached the sideboard and watched Elias serve, his aunt praising him quietly, gently, as he went along. The dishes rattled a little, as though Elias’s hands couldn’t be still, and Adam suppressed a smile.

He strolled leisurely to his chair, opposite his aunt, admiring the view as he went along before settling into his cushion with as much aplomb as he could muster. “Good afternoon, Elias,” he tried again.

Elias grunted, then seemed to remember himself. “Good afternoon, sir.” He didn’t look at Adam but rather focused on plating the pastries just-so and setting the sugar, honey, and tea pot at perfect angles to the butter. It was a very nice, efficient effect.

“I hope you don’t mind if I call you “Elias” do you? After all, “Harfoot” feels so formal and anything else is a mouthful, don’t you agree?” Adam turned his attention to the tea his aunt was serving, smelling of rose-hip and green.

“I don’t mind, sir,” Elias said after slight hesitation, pulling back from the table, holding the serving tray strategically in front of himself. “Most people call me “Elias” after all, except Gabriel when he’s upset and then it’s… Well, not polite to say.”

Adam spared a brief glimpse at his aunt who was looking at Elias like he was a skinny puppy who she was somehow proud of. He looked up at Elias’ face, his lower lip trembling, and nodded decisively,  “Then surely I must call you Elias, for I never mean to be upset with you. Quite the opposite, in fact, if my aunt is to be believed.”

Elias nodded as well, jerkily, before looking down to the floor as though Adam and his aunt’s feet were particularly chatty. “In fact,” Adam ventured carefully, “I very much hope we shall become friendly.”

At this, Elias’ face jerked up and his eyes bore right down to Adam’s soul. A small part of him was fearful for the moment, the rest basking in the attention. “Now don’t say things you don’t mean. There isn’t much chance of that… a hobbit like myself becoming friends with the likes of you, Mr. Towers.” He straightened his vest down over his belly and seemed to pull himself together. “Now, if you both will excuse me, I have work to do.” At a small permissive head motion from Aunt Cricket, Elias fairly fled the room, the door to the kitchen shutting with a resounding _click_.

He was right, of course, Adam thought as he stared at his scone as though it held the answers to the universe. Servants don’t usually become friends with their superiors, but the rebuff stung, regardless. He poured more honey into his tea before taking a large drink, wishing suddenly it was mead. Frodo and Sam had became friends, though, had gone all the way to Mount Doom together and lived together for a time in Bag End. He was certain there were others, people who had crossed caste lines to be friends, even lovers - they were all just hobbits, after all. What’s more, there was a restraint in Elias that hadn't been there a week ago, and Adam wondered what he might have heard or been told about him. Enough to make him wary. And while it was true that Adam had a bit of a reputation, being an idle, pleasure-seeking hobbit who was inclined to love hobbits of various shapes and sizes, not caring for the feelings of his erstwhile lovers when he found something else that caught his eye.

He looked up again, his aunt looking entirely way too smug for his liking, and he frowned. “Now what are you on about?”

She grinned innocently, taking a biscuit, “Why nothing, dear nephew, just thinking it is ever so good to see you.”

_And the day had started out so well._

Conversation flowed freely after that, though Adam would be remiss if he didn't say the short conversation with Elias didn't niggle at the back of his mind the whole rest of the afternoon. When it was time for him to go and he stood to take his leave, his aunt pushed him towards the long-quiet kitchen. “Don’t be rude, darling, go say goodbye.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she raised her eyebrows expectantly and he knew he would lose with whatever she had to say next, so instead he spun on his heel and walked into the kitchen. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted the bridge of Elias’ nose, the pink of his cheeks, and his striking chin. The honey-gold curls at his temples were browned with sweat and clung to his skin. He smelled wonderful, of musky male and sage soap, and Adam’s senses swam.

Elias was kneading dough on the table, making small grunts as he stretched the dough as far as he could and pulled it back together. The vest was gone, his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, and he was entirely immersed in his task. Ever so often, his tongue would flick out against the scar on his lip in an absent fashion, a tic of concentration, and Adam sagged against the door, content to just watch. After an undue amount of time, Elias took a deep breath in through his nose and perked up, his eyes landing unerringly on Adam’s once again and Adam smiled. He walked over to the table and reached across the table to grasp a lemon that was sitting in the bowl next to Elias’ elbow and with feigned casualness, he allowed his arm to brush against Elias’s, thrilled at their first contact and the hardness of the muscles that flexed involuntarily against him, getting flour on his jacket sleeve and not caring at all. He attempted to give Elias an innocent smile, “I’m just leaving. Aunt Cricket asked for a lemon,” he brandished the citrus like a magician, “and now I’ll be going. I hope you have a delightful evening, Elias. Please, consider calling me ‘Adam’.” He nodded once and Adam took that as his cue to leave, closing the door behind him gently.

Oh sweet, honey-gold Elias. That hobbit could hold his interest for weeks, if not months, if this attraction was anything to go by and, if Elias so desired, Adam could fully remain faithful to him during that time. He would have to reassure Elias on that point, lest he worry, as Adam knows what his dalliances and flirations can look like to the outside observer who isn’t fully abreast of the situations he often partook in. Adam had never allowed the opinions of others to weigh on him, though he did feel annoyed at the rumor mill just this once, if only because they were entirely wrong and had turned Elias against him, ever so slightly.

Adam presented his (baffled) aunt with the lemon and strolled outside, dusk approaching rapidly, and knew he would be fashionably late to the party. The whole way there, he wondered where Elias had heard ill against Adam – most likely his aunt had had someone else come by during the week, as he knew she wouldn’t have deemed it worth her time to interfere. No, someone like Diamond or perhaps even Rose Gardiner had been by. Even the most innocent of questions by Elias to either one of them would likely lead to a diatribe about Adam’s many failings and string of romantic partners. So, instead of finding himself one blissful step nearer to having Elias in his bed, he was instead being held at arm’s length. Well, one bump in the road wasn’t failure, and he was certain Elias would be his, and he would parade it in front of all the Shire if he had to.

 

That night, after a particularly raucous party, still buzzed from honey mead, Adam made his way home alone. He hadn’t bothered to take a new lover, however temporarily, that night, and instead had danced and flirted and sang until he felt dizzy with it. Old Cotton had sent him along with nearly two liters of sunflower oil for himself and his aunt and an enveloping hug that Adam wasn’t quite sure how he’d earned but it’d felt good, great even, to have fun without an agenda.

After dropping off the oil at his front door and leaving a tipsy trail of clothing from the door to his bed, he collapsed on the mattress with a grunt. The smooth cotton sheets slid against his skin, his room feeling humid and close, despite the open window. Musical droning of crickets mixed with intermittent croaking of frogs and faraway cat cries. He rolled onto his back, perspiring atop the sheets, taking in deep breaths and spreading his limbs to avoid them touching each other. It was unbearably warm in there. He closed his eyes and tried to drift off to sleep, his mind concocting various scenarios, each more daring than the last, wherein Elias and he made love in the hay, pleasured each other with their hands and mouths along the stream, risking discovery in the back room of the pub in their frantic need to couple. Adam’s eyes flew open, his cock red and leaking against his stomach, the foreskin retracted in desire. The images didn’t stop, despite his eyes being open. He could see them partially clothed and moving together, in the beech tree grove between their houses. Adam on his knees, Elias’ cock buried deep in his mouth, as he sucked Elias while he made dough. Elias on his knees bent over the kitchen table, holding himself open for Adam to rut into. Elias holding his hand over Adam’s mouth as he ground their cocks together during one of Aunt Cricket’s dinner parties, just out of sight in the pantry. Adam riding Elias a few feet from old Cotton’s party, Adam’s hands buried in what he was sure to be a pleasant thicket of chest hair as Elias pounded into him, where someone could wander by at any moment and discover them…

He flipped over onto his stomach and reached for the top drawer of the bedside table, biting is lips and moaning as his overheated groin pressed against the soft sheets and firm mattress. He squirmed against the cool fabric to relieve the intolerable ache just enough to tease as he opened the drawer and withdrew a small vial and slick, smooth wooden plug. His fingers shook slightly as he set the plug aside. He opened the stopper on the vial and poured some of the clear, viscous fluid into his hand, then placed the vial and its stopper onto the table. Quickly, he smoothed the oil between his palms, then slicked it over his shaft before sliding down one hand to oil his sac as he gave himself a few indulgent strokes, playing with the foreskin and mixing the clear fluid with the one his body secreted from his cock. He rose up to his knees and let his hand wander from his scrotum to his ass, giving his cock long, smooth pulls that ended in a small twist and a rub to the cock head before starting over again. He played with himself, teasing his hole until, with a particularly satisfying twist, he brought himself down on his finger, gasping at the intrusion. A second finger quickly joined the first, then a third – Adam imagined they were Elias’ fingers, thicker and longer and rougher than his own, loosening him up so that he could take Elias’ cock.

He stopped touching himself entirely, abruptly, perilously close to orgasm. He took a few calming, deep breaths, fingernails digging into his thighs, before he felt comfortable enough to continue. He grasped the plug, its appearance not unlike a large stopper for a jug, and eased himself down onto it, his breath catching in his throat when his body took over and _sucked_ the thing into his body. He whined and bounced himself on his bed, the movements causing the plug to rub deliciously against the pea-sized glans inside him that made his cock leak and jerk. He rubbed his chest with his hands, pinching and rubbing his nipples, his stomach, his thighs, not letting himself touch his cock that was by now a very dark red and begging for release. He squirmed against nothing, one hand winding itself into his hair and pulling as he finally allowed himself to play with his balls, massaging them in time with his thrusts against the air.

His legs were beginning to feel shaky and rubbery, he was covered in sweat, his hair sticking to his temples and the back of his neck. He needed to change position, so he slid his feet back and to the side until he could feel the stretch in his thighs and the headboard on the soles of his feet. He dipped down, thrusting his cock against a pillow but finding no joy, just more of a tease, before he dipped his spine and thudded his ass against the headboard, causing a thrilling vibration to echo through his pelvis. _Yes, please._ He tried it a couple more times, finding it obscenely rewarding and then he fucked himself with abandon, smacking his ass against the headboard, making the lewdest of sounds as the plug inside him was jostled and thrusted and worked against his prostate. So close, he was so close. He wound the sheets around his hands and thrust back with more force, his cock brushing against his pillow again, intense pleasure lighting up his spine. Once, twice, thrice – he threw his head back with a hoarse cry as his balls clenched, his hole squeezed the unrelenting plug, and hot sticky fluid flooded from his cock and into the pillow. He just barely managed to move to the right so he wouldn’t land in the wet spot before his arms gave away and he collapsed onto the bed, nose dug into the sheets, as he gasped for breath and sweat cooled against his heated skin. He moved his leg a little and shouted as the plug rubbed him firmly from inside and he threw a careless arm backwards to his hole. He teased himself a little, pushing the flat circle forward and twisting it as he pulled it out, making him want to scream from too much too soon and then it was over. He dropped the plug a bit away from him as he gathered the sheets to his face, making a makeshift pillow, and finding his breath again.

The aftermath was tinged with some regret and hollow disappointment. He climbed out of bed on trembling legs, went to his dressing table, filled the china basin with water from the ewer and cleansed himself by the light of the moon. This isn’t what he wanted, after all, he wanted Elias.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

However, Adam did not get Elias. He did not get him the next week. He did not get him the week after that. In fact, Adam did not get him the week after that. It was nearly a week of Wednesday's and Adam was no closer to his goal. His emotions fluctuated from hope to despair to unfamiliar (and new, to Adam) jealousy to even more peculiar anger. The longing for Elias was a continuing thread in his life and Adam was growing weary of spilling his seed on his sheets (and in the glen, and in the river on a few memorable occassions) just to keep his ardor at bay.

If Elias were a wall, Adam would think in his more spare moments, it would be not unlike Minas Tirith. He'd be essentially impenetrable, built of seamless smooth stone against which one could cast themselves against over and over again but come away bloodied and bruised and the wall would still be there, almost mocking you for trying. As it was, Elias was polite, but never more than polite, and when Adam attended the tea parties he seemed oblivious to Adam's "accidental" touches, inviting looks, and sly innuendo, forcing Adam to make meaningless chitchat with the dullards and gossips that attended these soirées rather than making plans to sneak away with Elias for a bit of bedsport. 

At least, however, his relationship with his aunt was improving and she seemed to be in much better spirits than he could remember seeing her in recently. She was no longer doing all the housework on her own, she was no longer cooking literally everything that came into the house, and what's more, she had company. It hadn't occurred to Adam that his aunt had been alone for a long time, with how many different types of relations and parties and dinners she both planned and attended. She'd been fine on her own, of course, but having someone around the house seemed to be very good for her, and Adam didn't even have to try very hard in order to be happy for her. 

And yet... And yet... Adam was convinced Elias  _was_ aware of him and not just as his employer's nephew. He could have concluded that Elias had no interest in coupling with a male, or with anyone, but Adam was far too an expert at reading the signs of attraction to mistake them. It wasn't that, even though he probably could have overcome token protests against male-male couplings with time. After all, he'd been blessed with a face that was almost feminine in its beauty, eyes and lashes that were the envy of most hobbits in the Shire, and he'd had no qualms about playing the female in the past, if necessary. He'd learned that once a hobbit was in bed with a willing, warm body that had a tight wet opening in which to thrust, what sex one was made little difference and the pleasure that could be taken would be just as great. 

Although Elias was aloof in his manner, he couldn't control his eyes, and they followed Adam more often than he likely realized. He always quickly averted them when Adam caught him watching, but not before Adam glimpsed emotions that set his heart to racing and gave his cock a twitch. He'd made a study of those golden brown eyes over the weeks, and intense emotion would make them darken. And they did darken when he looked at Adam.

At the seventh week, at the bi-monthly tea party, the metaphorical clouds began to clear and there was a crack in the wall that was Elias Harfoot. Adam had been, as usual, covertly observing Elias performing his duties, idly wondering if it were actually possible to go mad with longing. In his distraction, he carelessly spilled scalding tea on the back of his hand and let out a small cry of pain and surprise. No one appeared to have noticed, however, and Adam was almost unreasonably glad for his momentary blunder going unnoticed. He bit his lip against the pain and dabbed at the pool of tea with a napkin.

As if he were conjured by a wizard, Elias appeared at his side, a look of concern on his face. "Mr. Towers, are you well?"

"I've managed to burn my hand," Adam responded, attempting to sound flippant and unconcerned, though his vowels were tinged with pain. He held his hand out to Elias for inspection, instinctively.

Elias frowned deeply at the pinked skin and used the proffered hand to haul Adam out of his chair, "Come with me," he said in a low voice, leading them to the kitchen and depositing Adam at the table. "Just wait here, sir," he said, the words like a kindness but his tone telling of an order, "I'll fetch some water, vinegar, and a balm."

Adam, rather stunned (and somewhat aroused, suddenly, by this masterful Elias), obediently waited and tried not to look too gleeful at the prospect of some alone time with Elias.

Within a few minutes, Elias had returned with a wrapped piece of thin cloth that had been doused in water and vinegar, holding a basin. "Hold this to the burn, sir," he instructed, pressing the cloth to the burn gently, himself, already. "This should take out the heat and the sting, and hopefully stop a blister."

The cool fabric and apple cider vinegar had soothed the pain almost at once. "Thank you, Elias."

Elias, however, had already turned away and was busying himself with something on the table, "You'll be needing to keep the cloth on it for ten minutes, at least. Rinse it in the basin when it feels too warm, wring, and reapply." 

Adam felt as though he was filled with bright light, thinking of how he could use that time to his advantage, when Elias had blurted uncomfortably, "I best check on the Mistress, Mr. Towers. Don't move, I'll be back in a few minutes," and with that he lumbered out of the room and into the party. Adam felt deflated, defeated.

"Adam," he murmured, feeling like he was on the brink of tears, "my name is Adam."

To Adam's profound disappointment, though he was half expecting it, Elias didn't return until the ten-minute mark as if he'd been watching the time to return at the exact moment. He'd knelt before Adam and examined his wound, taking his hand in a careful grip and turning it this way and that. Adam tried not to look as besotted as he felt in that moment. Elias sighed, relieved, "It's not that bad, Mr. Towers," he said to Adam, who was conscious only of the bliss of Elias' fingers holding his for the very first time and likely wouldn't have noticed if he was sitting in a pot of boiling water, he already felt as though he was lit up in flames. "But to be on the safe side," Elias said, very reassuringly and Adam felt as if he could just melt, "I'll add some of that beeswax balm to it and a nice, dry cloth. That should keep you right, sir."

 

He fetched a small tin from near the stove then, and, with gentle fingers, had rubbed the soft, yellowed wax into the burn and the surrounding area. Adam was certain it wasn't wishful thinking on his part that Elias had lingered in the tending and care. His color was high, there was a slight sheen of sweat to him, and the hand holding Adam's was trembling slightly. Adam, himself, felt scared to even draw breath, mesmerized by the motion of Elias' burnt fingers and the delicate way he was holding Adam's hand. He didn't want to disturb the moment, lest Elias stop his ministrations. His fingers circled the burn, light as can be, until every piece of attention Adam's body held was focused on that one small area of skin.

 _At last,_ Adam thought,  _the perfect opportunity to take the next step_. Elias was, still, on his knees in front of him as if in blatant invitation to be seduced. Adam only had to lean forward, slide his free hand to Elias' neck, and pull him into a kiss, and then... oh -

As if he'd sensed Adam's intent, Elias abruptly dropped his hand and clambered to his feet. "You'd best go back to the party now, sir," he said, sounding strained and irritated, "I've got things to do." With that, he grabbed a basket of rolls and croissants off the table and fled. 

Adam felt bereft and, suddenly, disquietly, lonely.

The next week, he received a small note from Elias inquiring after his hand, but even after Adam's reply basically invited a response, there wasn't a follow-up missive. 

Adam felt sure that if he could get Elias alone, again, truly alone - he could break through that wall of oppressive politeness for good. But Elias never set foot outside of Aunt Cricket's smial, as far as Adam could tell, though his aunt certainly made her appearances around time. Adam concluded Elias must leave under the cover of darkness or the middle of the night, as he'd looked everywhere for Elias and no one ever made mention of him, no matter what gossip was being bandied about.

 

Adam even started to frequent  _The Circle House_ in the evenings, much to the astonishment of the locals, unaccustomed to having one of the gentry in their tavern. Elias apparently didn't go there, either, but Adam had been looking for a lad to tumble and he knew from reliable sources that  _The Circle House_ could provide such a thing. After all, why shouldn't he take advantage of what's being offered freely and is available. Elias may not want him, but that doesn't mean there aren't other horses in the stable. 

It's with that state of mind that Adam sunk deep into his cups until he found a likely candidate. Dark haired, dark eyed, a sturdy well-made body and a hooked-nose, he wasn't perfect but he'd do in a pinch. Adam made deliberate eye contact with the lad and gave him a slow, inviting smile. He gestured to the exit and the young hobbit's eyes widened and he grinned. Dropping a few coins on the table, he rose and exited the tavern, Adam following a few minutes later, weaving through the tables (though a bit unsteady on his suddenly too-large feet.) He wished, suddenly, with drunken defiance that Elias  _was_ there and could see him, see that there are options out there for him, hobbits willing and eager to take what Adam offered - even if it wasn't.

The other hobbit was waiting for him just outside and without a word, they turned and walked to the side of the building in the deep shadows where none of the light from the windows or moon shone. Adam found himself abruptly and roughly pushed against the wall, the hobbit's muscular thigh harshly thrust between his legs, a rock-hard erection against his hip. Adam opened his mouth to speak but a greedy, unpleasant kiss tasting of ale and fried onions stopped him before he could even begin.

"Oh, but you're a pretty thing, ain't you," the other hobbit murmured, also obviously in his cups, grasping for Adam's crotch, "you got eyes like a lass's. Though you ain't no lass, more's the pity. Still..." he found Adam's cock and squeezed, hard, and not entirely pleasantly, "You'll do, won't ya?"

If Elias' crisp consonants poured over Adam like warm water, these harsh tones were a douse of ice water. He came to his senses with a start and wondere what on green Middle Earth possessed him to do such a thing. With a twist of his body, Adam slid out from between the hobbit and the wall, backed up a few paces, holding his hands out in a universal placating manner. "I'm dreadfully sorry, sir," he said, "but I've changed my mind."

"You what?" The other hobbit looked at him like he'd spit on his shoes, "What are you playing at, here?"

Adam sighed. "No game, it was a mistake. I'm very sorry." Adam felt like seven kinds of fool, but what else could he say? He definitely wasn't going to go through with this anymore. "I'm sorry, truly I am," he repeated, walking quickly away and towards the light of the tavern. 

"You're a damn cock tease, that's what you are," the other hobbit shouted at him, "and don't think I won't tell everyone else so." The accusing words followed Adam as he broke into a run and he knew he would never return to  _The Circle House_ in search for Elias, or possibly ever. 

That night, Adam couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, feeling the lowest he'd felt since primary school and the other kids would poke fun at him. He felt so much shame, shame for his behavior and shame for his desire of Elias that wasn't returned and was now preventing his enjoyment of other bedmates. He'd rarely gone this long between lovers before, but he knew now with greater certainty that he would settle for no one but Elias, now, at least until whatever he was feeling burned out.

Perhaps he could leave town for a while, though, he could visit cousin Sam and his family out in Bag End. Or he could go to Tuckborough and drink with the lads. He'd fobbed the fellas off a couple weeks ago, not wishing for them to put a damper in his pursuit of Elias, but he could use Sam's sage advice or even just a night out with some friends. He knew that, once Sam quit laughing, he would advise Adam to give it up, move on, go on a good long holiday and not come back until he'd gotten over Elias.

 _Oh, Sam,_ he thought, watching the reflection of the moon on the nearby water make patterns on his ceiling while the shadows of the pussy willows danced,  _How I wish I could take your advice._

 

__


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam has a hangover, Elias has a secret, there's a lot of feelings and Elias cries.

Morning came too bright, too early, and too loud, startling Adam out of his light doze and knocking him right off the bed. He groaned, his mouth feeling like he’d been licking something furry and pretty sure his head was too big for his shoulders and about to slip right off. Quelling the selfish, childlike desire to duck back under the covers, he forced himself to get dressed and dress the bed. Four cups of strong, honeyed tea and some brown loaf later, he decided it was time for a walk. The fresh air was calling and it was still early enough in the day that the heat had yet to descend upon the Shire.

The fresh air did him well and nothing seemed as morose in the light of day as it had the night before, his optimism returning in small increments like gathering thread. He was not down and out, there was no white kerchief to throw down in defeat and it was not a time to despair. After all, hadn’t Elias just cared for his burned hand with the tenderness of a lover? For a bullish, awkward figure, he was as gentle as a lamb when he desired to be – and Adam could yet find out other ways Elias could be gentle, or not, if he were patient enough.

With these thoughts, Adam felt himself grow lighter, relieved of the burden of the otherwise inauspicious day or so, and it was with these thoughts and feeling that his eyes clapped upon a familiar figure cutting across the fields towards him. At first, he was certain he was imagining things, or perhaps it was simply another hobbit of similar coloring. Perhaps it was just another hobbit going about their business and his wishful thinking had gotten the best of him. The hobbit was clad in simple breeches, shirt, and waistcoat of muted colors, the sun glinted off peculiarly-colored curls, they were tall for a hobbit and not the most graceful... his hearth leapt into his throat as Adam realized it truly was Elias. He smiled openly, unable to help himself, inwardly exultant. Fortune had finally decided to smile upon him, perhaps making up for the previous day's misadventures.

He made to call out to Elias but stopped himself at the last moment. Elias was walking with purpose, arms swinging and legs striding at a clipped pace. He obviously had not seen Adam, instead he was entirely focused on his task. Adam stopped walking, waited until Elias struck the path Adam was on, then followed him. He had no qualms about this action - he  _had_ been walking this direction, also, hadn't he? And he was curious, ravenously so, to know where Elias was trotting off to with such determination.

A short while later, the path forked, the left side bringing one into town and the one to the right, less traveled and therefore a tad overgrown, wound up a hill before descending into a small wood. It was this path that Elias chose to take, causing Adam to pause again as he considered where "they" were now going. It was a pretty place, to be sure, a waterfall and stream wound through it, giving life to wildflowers and ferns, the mud a rich, dark brown that was almost black. On hot summer days, Adam would stop by to dip his feet into the cool water, surrounded by the hush of nature and the shade of the surrounding trees. It was one of the rare perfect natural places on Middle Earth, untouched by anything except the waterfall. It was also, Adam had thought, an ideal spot for a midday dalliance. Could that be what Elias was going towards with such resolve - could he be meeting a lover? 

An unexpected burst of pain rippled through Adam at the thought and he suddenly felt very foolish, tempted to turn left and visit the market before dragging himself home, again... but he couldn't. He had to know, for good or for ill, even if it killed him. Perhaps it would be the stone that would crush his hopeful longing for the other hobbit. Or perhaps, he swallowed thickly, it really would kill him to see his honey-gold Elias with some other hobbit, hear his lustful moans as some enterprising lad or lass was kissing that curious upper lip, their eager fingers winding through those riotous curls or daringly stroking against that generous cock. 

At one time or another, the idea of watching a potential (or even current) lover sporting with another would have excited him. The illicit thrill of seeing something he wasn't meant to, watching from a secreted place, a hand in his trousers stroking his ruddy, eager shaft as he imagined himself participating in whatever play was in progress.... but observing Elias in such a way did not excite Adam. Rather, the idea of it, of sitting himself down and watching such a thing with Elias only made his guts churn and his mind burn with unaccustomed jealousy. He felt disgusting and  _disgusted,_ with himself and the situation, the sensation of tears prickling his eyes as he resolutely began walking again, dread and pain lacing every footstep as he followed Elias into the wood.

Once within the shade of the trees, Adam brought himself to a stop yet again, but to listen. Coupled with the distant roar of the waterfall and the burble of the stream was a fainter sound of someone's voice. With great care, he moved through the dappled flaxen light that filtered through the trees and their leaves, pausing to listen ever so often to make sure he was on the right path. The voice was so obscured, he couldn't tell if it was Elias' or that of some other hobbit, but it lead him not down to the stream, but rather up in the dark shadows of the wood. Up ahead, he could glimpse a shaft of light, and the queer, uneasy feeling intensified. A tiny glade was on the other side of those trees, Adam knew, a secluded spot unknown to most hobbits - as most who traversed this way made a habit of stopping by the stream or the waterfall, never minding the deeper, thicker wood that could be quite dark even in the daytime. Though the glade was out of the way, the sunlight kept it warm and the grasses were thick, the ground layered with a good cast of moss, and Adam would sometimes lay there to feel the sun on every part of his skin on more temperate days. He never heard another soul when he was out her, except for the fauna that made it their home. He knew there was no better place for a tryst.

With great care, so as not to upset leaves or snap any twigs, Adam crept closer until he was hidden behind a large bur oak on the edge of the clearing. He could hear the voice clearly, now they were away from the stream and surrounded by trees. It was Elias' voice, and he was speaking to someone. Adam's heart sank within his chest - Elias wasn't alone, he had come to meet a lover, Adam was sure of it, now. Tears again began to prickle at Adam's eyes but he refused to let them fall. He'd never cried for a lover before, and he wasn't going to start doing so, now. 

"Aren't you lovely," Elias was saying in a fond voice. "You're more beautiful every time I set eyes on you. Du er alle sådanne dejlige høner."

 

Adam felt his heart stop at Elias speaking his land's tongue, the crushing defeat that he got to hear it when it wasn't actually directed at  _him._ His chest felt cavernous, as though his heart had dissipated and taken everything else with it.  _Don't even look, just turn around and leave,_ he told himself, even as he peered curiously around the trunk, unable to stop himself. He had to see, he had to know, who had taken his Elias from right under his nose!

His eyes landed immediately upon Elias, practically glowing in the sunshine, then swept the rest of the glade for his lover.... finding... no one? Elias, it seemed, was completely alone? Blessedly, surprisingly, astoundingly alone? But - then to whom had he been speaking? 

"Du ser tørstig," Elias was saying, removing a copper and leather watering can from his rucksack, leaning over into a.. pen? What is this? 

Adam moved around the tree a bit more and saw... a hen house. On the edge of the glen. With five or so chickens quietly puttering about, a couple standing by a terracotta bowl Elias was pouring water into, dotingly, as he said more sweet things in a calming voice in his mother tongue. Adam was dumbstruck.

And then, a hysterical giggle welled up inside him and he stuffed a fist into his mouth. The relief of knowing that Elias had not, after all, come for a midday dalliance with a lover and was, instead, tending to some rather fluffy (and large) chickens was so intense that Adam felt giddy with it. He knew not why Elias had decided to slog all of these supplies out here, he didn't know how he'd even found this place, but all of that paled in comparison with the knowledge that he was decidedly  _not_ here to shag someone. Adam slumped against the tree, weak-kneed and exhausted from his emotional journey, and that's when he noticed the flowers. There were flowers blooming throughout the glen and around the hen house, a glorious smattering of color transforming the glade that had been beautiful before, into something transcendent. 

Was this Elias' doing?

Adam stepped out from behind the tree trunk and onto the soft grass, which had been tamed to make way for the flowers. What else had Adam been missing of late? "Elias," he called, "is this your work?"

There were a few thuds and the sound of splashing before Elias was suddenly, disquietly by Adam's side, his face, arms and shirt splattered with water. "Mr-M-Mr. Towers. What.. What are you doing here?" he stuttered out, tone brusque, as his face reddened. 

"I followed you," Adam admitted simply, walking further into the glad (garden?), hearing Elias follow on clumsy toes, "I was taking a walk when I saw you enter these woods and, well, honestly, I was curious." He spun in a circle, taking the entire glen in all its wonder and splendor, still amazed at the transformation. "Elias, this is  _beautiful_ ," Adam finally made eye-contact with the other hobbit, his brown eyes wide and mustache twitching, "Is this your doing, Elias?"

Elias opened and closed his mouth a few times, appearing to find the words, becoming even redder and delighting Adam all the more. "Ja," he finally landed on, looking distinctly uncomfortable, as though he wanted to look away but couldn't find the will to do so.

Adam stared, bewildered, "You sound as though you're ashamed of it."

Elias breathed in and out a few times, slowly, closing his eyes before explaining, albeit awkwardly, "It isn't my land, it's not mine to tend or to change. I brought the hens here because they were having trouble getting used to being in the Shire, you see, and.. I've always wanted a garden." He took another slow breath before going on in a rush, "In North Ork Oak, I didn't have much time for gardening or for doing much else than keeping up with my brothers, checking the cheese, and tending to the chickens. They're always off doing something or other and the house was suffering for it, and I knew that was no place for them to come home to, so I fixed it up and started making the hen houses better. Soon people were buying the chickens. They were buying my houses. Then Miss Cricket comes up, takes one look around the farm, and arranges for me to come here --"

"Well, I'm glad she did," interjected Adam, continuing on before Elias could misunderstand, "Your renown as a cook and handyman is spreading, Elias, and I only wish my own cook, Daisy Bolger, had half your skill and interest in learning." Elias looked intensely discomfited by Adam's praise, so Adam added, "Do go on, Elias, I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"I had thought maybe Miss Cricket would have a garden that needed tending, but she does that on her own and her current gardener... well, he didn't want my help. But then I found this place, and brought the chickens here, and it's quiet. Private. I couldn't just leave the chickens surrounded by long grasses, they could be hiding snakes! Or some other things! And chickens like flowers, so I thought I would see what I could do with it, just a bit."

Adam chuckled, "A bit?" He walked along the flower beds that encircled the tiny glade, scarlet and gold snapdragons, deep purple-blue belles, sunny daisies, and primroses poking their faces out to the sun. There were bushes of roses, of lilacs, crawling ivy along the side of the hen house and an herb garden to the other side. There were vegetables along the far corner, butterflies flitting about and bees droning through laden with pollen. The air was awash with sweet scents and Adam turned his smiling, raptured face to Elias who was watching him apprehensively, hands shoved in his pockets and a stoop to his shoulders, as though he were expecting a blow. "Dear, sweet Elias," Adam breathed, "you are just full of surprises. I hardly can believe you created this all in just a couple months."

Elias blushed, stomping his foot twice as he smiled, bashfully. "I like plants, Mr. Towers, and I guess they like me back."

Adam nodded, "Oh, yes, I can see that. It suits you."

Elias covered his mouth with one hand, seemingly beside himself, and was quiet for a moment before he blurted out, "I don't grow them all from seeds, some of them I bought in the market. Miss Cricket is right enough, and does vegetables and herbs better than anyone, but she doesn't know flowers, like I do. Her gardener puts them in the wrong spot, gives them the wrong sun. I tried to tell him, but -- like I said, he didn't want to hear it, so." He stopped again, looking as guilty as a child confessing.

"So, what, Elias?" Adam asked, mimicking Elias' hands-in-pocket stance, though his shoulders were back and he was looking at the other hobbit curiously.

"I took some of them," Elias said, his eyes brimming with tears, as if the confession had hurt him on its way out of his mouth, "they were sick, wilting, and I couldn't just leave them there. They'd  _die_ , Mr. Towers." He gestured to the snap dragons, "Look at 'em. They were wilted, on death's door, and her gardener dug them up and threw them in the rubbish heap.. so I brought them here. And just look at them, look at them, now." He gave a watery smile and looked down fondly at the snapdragons, "every day, they get stronger." Elias bent and very gently stroked one fine, red petal, his smile turning tender and stealing Adam's breath.

"Mr. Towers?" Elias was asking, though his voice seemed very far away,  "Mr. Towers, are you all right?"

 _No,_  Adam thought as Elias walked closer and peered at him curiously and Adam couldn't help himself but to let out a bark of surprised laughter, feeling drunk and dazed as he stared into those lovely golden eyes,  _I'll never be all right again, my dear Elias. I think I'm in love._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was like pulling teeth, I hope you like it. I'm sorry it's not very long but the rest of it should be up tomorrow and that will be a bit of a doozy.
> 
> Elias' Danish phrases translate into "You're all such lovely hens" & "You look thirsty"
> 
> Thank you again for reading and if you feel like validating my existence, go ahead and hit that Kudos button! If you're feeling particularly adventurous, there's always the Comment button & I promise to answer in a way that doesn't fully reveal how thrilled I am to receive such things ♡♡♡♡


	4. Chapter 4

“This is a hydrangea,” Elias said, hands firmly in his pockets as he lead Adam around the garden, showing off his work with a sort of pride that was as endearing as it was baffling to Adam to be endeared  _by_ it. "They're better off in the shade, which is why they're over here in the corner."

Adam only listened with half an ear as Elias went on about the garden, most of him entirely transfixed by Elias and the entirely new feelings he was rousing in Adam. Love? He'd never thought it would happen to him. He'd felt familial love for his aunt, of course, for his parents when they were living, for Sam and his family - but  _romantic_ love, that was an entirely new field. He'd been distracted by hobbits before, of course, some of which even claimed to love  _him_ but he'd never really experienced it, himself. Puppy love, maybe, when he was younger and more prone to flights of fancy but they were very shallow and easily disregarded after a time. Nothing like this, this gut-churning twist, this elation and care he felt for a hobbit he barely knew. And it'd persisted for  _months_ now, he was surprised to recall. He'd been following after Elias like a dutiful pet for  _months._ And now he knew that he loved, now, the jealousy anger, uncertainty and fear, elation and affection - they were all suddenly explained, it all fit too well, and Adam couldn't decide what to do with himself now that he knew. 

He studied the topography of Elias' face as he talked about different types of flowers and shrubs and vegetables, their needs, their flowering season, their compost schedule, his mustache twitching wryly as he shared one anecdote or another about his early forays and stumbles with horticulture. Loving someone, Adam mused, as he watched Elias gesticulate and bob his head, that was entirely new. Seduction was now entirely out of the question, as seduction was a means to sex and not much else but now - oh now, Adam wanted so much more than just a few sneaky liaisons... And he needed time to adjust to this, most definitely. Reconcile the hobbit he was now, who loved this harelipped chicken-raiser and gardener, with the indolent tween he'd started the summer as. 

The longer Elias talked, the more passionate he became, and the more exuberant his gestures and explanations of the various plants were. All along, Adam paid attention, fear niggling at the back of his mind that Elias, quite possibly and very likely, couldn't love him in return. The idea was intolerable, at best, but Adam was all too aware of his own lazy and flighty ways to be entirely convinced that Elias, hardworking and dutiful Elias who cried when he confessed to stealing what was essentially plant garbage and cared for chickens the way some people cared for hounds, could only look upon him with suspicion and contempt.

After all, Adam's aunt did employ Elias, they were definitely of different castes, but also from different worlds. Adam, having nothing in particular to devote his life to, choosing to play societal games and Elias, who had essentially been sold by his brothers into service after breeding chickens and creating coops people traversed the Shire to buy. What Adam  _could_ provide Elias were material, but he knew that Elias would not be won with offers of comfort and gold - and Adam wouldn't want him to be. No, Adam must rely upon his own merit, for good or ill, and that was an entirely new and frightening proposition.

Elias touched Adam's arm, startling him from his thoughts, as Elias then picked up a lovely gold, star-shaped flower from the ground and twirled it in front of Adam's nose until he could smell its delicate, sweet and slightly bitter, scent. "This flower I don't know," Elias said, sounding unsure and wary, "It grows wild here, but I never saw them in North Ork Oak."

Adam placed a delicate hand gently on Elias' prompting him to stop twirling the damn thing and lower his hand, "It's called Elanor, Elias."

Elias blinked owlishly, then down at the flower in his hand, where Adam suddenly realized his hand still was and pulled it back as though burned. "That sounds... Elvish," Elias' mouth spoke the word as if it were foreign and distasteful, "Why would an Elvish flower grow here?"

Adam smiled, then, a warm, fleeting thing that felt strange on his face. "Bilbo brought them from Lothlórien. I don't know when, but once he planted them, they took to seed and now you can find them all over, from the Old Wood to the West Farthing. Sam named his daughter Elanor, actually, Frodo insisted. Bilbo also brought back Evermind, though he couldn't stand to look at the stuff. It made him weep. They planted it on the burial mounds, when my parents passed."

Elias looked down at the flower in his hand again, tears glistening in his eyes, before placing it delicately behind Adam's ear, fingers sliding against the curls as he did so. "I'm sure you miss them," Elias said softly before turning away and looking around the garden, as though embarrassed. "I know how it feels to miss your family."

Adam nodded, blush stinging his cheeks, "I suppose you do." 

Elias cleared his throat, then looked back at Adam. "I'm sorry. Miss Cricket has company coming for dinner and I'm doing the cooking. It's time to go."

Adam nodded again, biting his tongue to stop himself from begging Elias to stay. He had a job to do, after all, and it wouldn't do to make him late. It wouldn't win him any favors with either his aunt nor Elias, "It was lovely talking with you Elias, thank you for sharing your garden with me. I-- I want you to know that I shan't tell anyone about this. The garden, I mean." Adam cringed inside his own mind at his words, his actions. Really showing that Towers charm, there, Adam, he thought. 

"I know that," Elias smiled, a small and secretive thing, "I trust you, Adam." He walked over to his rucksack and packed up, petting a few chickens who stopped by as though they knew he was leaving and wishing to say 'good-bye'. 

These words pleased him more than words could ever possibly say, more than any compliment upon his looks or skills had ever managed to, and Adam felt as though he were floundering. "Thank you, I'm glad. You - may I visit again? It really is quite a lovely garden."

Elias stopped what he was doing and turned to face Adam again, silent for a few painful moments before divulging, "I'm here almost everyday in the morning, and most days after lunch, to tend to the garden and the chickens. If you - want company, that is, or so you know when to avoid me. Whichever you want."

Adam felt his heart flutter - he'd gotten what he wanted, an implicit invitation (more or less) to be where Elias was.

Elias had finished packing and was heading out of the glen, feet carrying him at a brisk pace, "Perhaps I'll see you tomorrow!" Adam called, not knowing if Elias had heard him in his rush to escape, but not caring either way. He could see Elias again  _tomorrow._

Even after the sunlight had started to fad, Adam lingered in the glen. He was not ready to leave this garden that would now have a sanctified place in his memory. It was here he first understood what it was to love, it was here that he realized he  _could_ love. He laid on his back in the soft grass and closed his eyes, listening to the distant soft clucking of the chickens and the wind rustling the leaves all around him, the sun dancing along his skin. He took off his shirt and felt the warmth seep into his bones, the soft grass tickling his back, and felt the movement of the earth and that all was right and good in the world were at his feet. 

He stroked himself through his trousers a few times, thoughts of kissing Elias on the soft peat floating through his mind, but didn't bother doing much more than that before strolling home and inspecting his own garden in the twilight. He saw, as if with new eyes, the signs of neglect and ill-keep. Old Togo Bolger, like his wife Daisy, was dutiful but was getting too old for such work and it showed. Yes, he trimmed the lawn each week, did some weeding and planted a few annuals, but it was, like he said, dutiful. Perhaps it was time to let them retire, give them a handsome stipend and take on the work, himself. 

Or hire a handyman of his own.

~*~*~*~*~

Adam arrived early the next day to the garden, unsure of when Elias would appear - if he deemed to do so, at all. His vanishing act after tending to Adam's burn sticking out like a sore thumb in Adam's memory. He'd come prepared with a book of various flowers and herbs that he thought Elias may enjoy, there being a particular section about different flowers to feed to one's livestock - including chicken - that could enhance their flavor, with some recipes in the back.

He idly leafed through the book, much as he'd done the previous evening, looking for inspiration.

When Elias came striding out of the trees some half hour later, Adam could barely suppress his desire to run to him and embrace him, for a surge of love and longing welled up inside him. Instead, he only smiled and raised a hand in greeting, determined not to do anything that would cause Elias to regret his decision to allow him to come here.

Elias, it turned out, was fascinated with the book and paged gently through its contents with such a look of wonder that Adam couldn't help but preen that he'd thought to bring it along.

Suddenly, Elias made a noise, somewhat like a bark of a dog, thrusting the book under Adam's nose - "You see this here?"

Adam took the book back, peering intently at the elegant scrawl upon the page. "Yes. I had thought it was some dialect of Elvish, but I've never seen it before."

Elias snatched the book away from Adam's lap and sat down next to him, hard, on the ground, pointing at the different characters. "It's my tongue! Here, on the page! I never thought I'd see it out of North Ork Oak!" he grinned, clearly excited, then started reading, his finger following the words as he went as though just touching something even that much familiar was soothing to him.

And suddenly, as though a glass had shattered, Adam realized Elias was homesick. Who wouldn't be? He'd left the only home, only family he knew to be in service to a spinster in an area of the world he'd never been, where he barely spoke their words. Adam bit his lip, considering his next words, before he spoke, "Would you... be willing to read to me, Elias? I don't - I've never heard your mother tongue before, and I wouldn't know how to read it."

Elias' chest seemed to swell and he looked a little teary, his lower lip trembling, "Of course, Mr... Adam."

Adam beamed and laid down in the grass, gesturing for Elias to join him. And so he read, strange words that Adam had never heard and pertaining to a subject he barely had a grasp upon in any event, but with such care that Adam was entranced, anyway. Elias' stuttering seemed to almost disappear, no longer searching for words, and his accent flowed with the words like leaves on a stream. Adam found himself enchanted, with the proper sunny day in the garden, and he rolled onto his side and watched Elias read, his hands idly caressing the book as though it were a lover, and Adam slipped into a sort of stupor, lulled by the rhythm and cadence of the words, the buzzing of the bees, and the  _cluck-cluck_ of the chickens as errant breezes prevented them all from overheating in the bright day.

Eventually, Elias stopped, gazing upon the book as though it held the secrets of the universe, but it had devolved into pictures and recipes. 

"Oh, Elias, that was quite lovely, thank you," Adam murmured, half dozing in the afternoon light, his face in the shade of the tree above them and feeling more than content to lie on the grass until provoked to do otherwise. "I didn't understand a single word, but the way you spoke them was very evocative."

Elias seemed to turn all shades of red, right to the tips of his ears, even though he otherwise looked unbothered, as though he hadn't heard Adam at all. "I have to get back to the hens," he muttered, ruefully, "then back to Miss Cricket's." He paused for a few painful heartbeats before continuing, "It was nice to have company." He gathered himself together, then, off the ground and dusting himself free of blades of grass before stalking over to the hen house. It was difficult, Adam mused, to be patient. Elias' back was to him, now, his muscular buttocks pronounced as ever as he bent to feed and pet the chickens, softly talking all the while, his calves and arms more tanned now than they had been a few months ago. There were a few errant pieces of grass in his hair and his shoulders looked broad as ever, strong, as he picked up his rucksack and started for the edge of the clearing.

Perhaps, one day, Elias would no longer be constricted by his work with Aunt Cricket, Adam mused, as he watched the clouds through the leaves and daydreamed of a time when he and Elias would have more than a shaded glen to retire to.

~*~*~*~*~

When Adam returned home that afternoon, there was a letter waiting for him from Elias expressing his condolences but he would be otherwise engaged the next day baking for Miss Cricket's tea party the day after and though he would be stopping by to feed the chickens, would have no time to dally.

Adam was somewhat disappointed, but there was still the tea party to look forward to and Adam knew just what to wear.

Much like all those weeks ago, Adam took particular care with his ablutions, but this time he also had a gift for Elias. It was a small book of herbs, with hand-drawn and colored illustrations, from the market he'd chanced upon, with words that looked like the ones Elias had been reading to him. He took the time to put a silver-gray ribbon on it, the color contrasting nicely with the rich brown of the leather, tying it the best he knew how and feeling ridiculous as he did so. 

Suitably attired, both he and the book, Adam set out for his aunt's smial, the gift neatly tucked into his jacket pocket to avoid any calamity. 

He walked briskly, filled with unnameable joy and excitement at the prospect of seeing Elias' face once he received his gift. The good feeling lasted all the way until he was at his aunt's, where hobbits were meandering the lawn and sitting upon her front porch, the front door open to allow guests free range to walk inside and out. Adam hadn't been exaggerating when he said that Elias' renown for the culinary arts was spreading. It was a blessing in that it allowed Adam to say he was there for the cooking rather than Elias, himself, when he came by for tea. However, it was also a curse, as opportunities to be alone with Elias, let alone get him by himself, were few and far between. 

Such was the situation once Adam made his way inside his Aunt's home. He caught glimpses of Elias, flitting to and fro with food, drink, and empties, but other than a quick, spare, "Good afternoon, Mr. Towers," said in passing (a formality Adam felt was a little too distant after the last few days of (finally) being addressed as Adam) that left Adam sullen like a younger tween. 

Adam sighed into his tea before biting viciously into a blackberry tart.

"Oh dear, Adam, do have some respect for that delicious tart you hold in your hand," a low, droll voice spoke behind him, and Adam sighed again, completely exasperated with the day. The owner of the voice was none other than his (very) distant cousin, and (very) sporadic lover, Mungo Greenhand, and quite possibly the last hobbit he wished to see today. If ever. Mungo had a keen eye and a hard nose for gossip - it was one of the things he had admired in Mungo at first that quickly lost its luster after one too many salacious rumors had circled back to him about himself.

"Afternoon, Mungo," Adam said, saccharine sweet, "What brings you to our townlet?"

Mungo plopped down on the (tiny) settee next to Adam as though they were much closer than they actually were. "As much as I know you'd love for me to say it was your enchanting self, I'm afraid the word has spread to even my ears that dear old Cricket has acquired an astounding handyman. I simply had to come see it for myself." Mungo draped one arm behind Adam so that his long, thin fingers that were fairly covered with rings, rested intimately against Adam's hip. His perfume was incensed and overpowering, smelling unpleasantly of lissuin and tobacco. 

Adam discreetly wrinkled his nose, resisting the cloying urge to move away. "Oh yes?" Adam asked lightly, "And what do you think?" Even though he and Mungo had been lovers for a few months a few years back, and occasionally since when they were in the same neighborhood and feeling a bit spare, he knew Adam well and would become suspicious of any behavior that seemed unusual and wouldn't rest until he figured out  _why_.

"Oh he's fine enough, though not much to look at," Mungo divulged shamelessly, "I shouldn't wonder I should get brave enough to snatch the lad right out from under Cricket's nose, I'm not sure she knows what she has."

Adam snorted into his tea, placing the cup delicately back into its saucer, "Oh, come on, now, you and every other hobbit in this room."

Mungo pouted exaggeratedly and helped himself to a biscuit off of Adam's plate. "You wound me, darling, rating me no higher than at least a dozen others. I hope you intend to make it up to me, perhaps an invitation to your smial afterwards, eh?" Mungo trailed the hand that had been resting on Adam's hip up his spine and into his hair, teasing his curls as he did so.

"Mungo..." Adam began quietly, then he noticed Elias was standing only a few feet away, and Adam's innards sunk to the floor. Elias was transfixed by Mungo's hand in Adam's hair, his ears beet red but the rest of him pale as a sheet. There had been a time that Adam would've responded to Mungo's advances with something even more outrageous. They had found amusement in the scandalized looks of the others present as they flirted and simpered with each other, but there was nothing even remotely funny about the expression in Elias' eyes. They were dark with hurt, glistening with unshed tears. 

"As I hear it, I think it's a very good thing for you that I decided to come this way," Mungo continued, his thumb massaging the side of Adam's neck as the rest of his fingers played in his curls. "You see, that's not the only rumor I heard. On my way here, a particularly juicy tidbit reached my ears about a certain Adam Towers and a farmer's son he met in  _The Circle House_ not even a week ago." Adam looked down at his plate, the crumbs his only friends now as humiliation filled his veins and stilled his mouth. Mungo clucked his tongue, chastising, "Oh Adam, my sweet, I thought you knew better than to roll around with the lower classes, they simply don't know any better."

There was a resounding clatter and Adam looked up to see Elias frantically piling dirty dishes onto a tray, striding quickly away and shutting the door to the kitchen with a thud that shook the nearby walls. The other party guests paused for a moment, then tittered back into conversation and Adam made himself stay where he was. He couldn't chase after Elias with Mungo at his elbow, after all, that would be social suicide. 

 _However_... well.. It had worked once before to get him time alone with Elias. 

"Mmm, yes, I should have known better, Mungo," Adam purred, meaning every word if not the tone, "It was a damned foolish thing of me to do." He feigned an impulsive gesture with his hand, seeming to forget his teacup, and tea slopped over and soaked his shirt and trousers. Luckily, the tea had cooled significantly, so it was merely uncomfortable rather than scalding, jumping up in faux surprise, "Oh! This outfit is  _ruined_!" Adam put as much feeling as he could muster into the words - which was quite a lot, as he'd really rather liked this ensemble despite being the one to purposefully soil it. 

Mungo raised his eyebrows, intrigued by the sequence of events. "I'm afraid you're right."

"Excuse me, maybe I can salvage this," Adam said, as though he was suddenly inspired, and threaded his way thorugh the crowded room and into the kitchen.

Elias was there, a mound of flour on the table, eyes red-rimmed and miserable, cheeks puffed as he tried to hold in his cries. "Go on, get out of here," he said, his voice rough and rendering Adam in the worst way, "Go on back to your  _friend_ with his fine clothes and his... and his..." 

"Elias," Adam implored, hands outstretched, "Please..." 

Elias straightened and faced him, tears down his cheeks, flour up to his elbows, "You'd better get going, Mr. Towers," he said, "We don't want someone thinking you're debasing yourself with the likes of me, do we?"

Adam felt as though he'd been struck, but he couldn't leave without explaining himself. "Elias, please listen, please. It's true I was at  _The Circle House_ the other night. I was hoping to see  _you_. I've  _been_ hoping to see you, everywhere I go. But you weren't there, and I went there a few times just to see," he hurried his words, desperate for understanding and to be heard, "I had too much to drink the last time and it seemed I would never have you, so I... I almost did something foolish. But I couldn't go through with it, Elias. Do you hear me?" Elias was shaking his head, refusing to look at Adam, instead looking down at the mound of flour on the table and covering his mouth with a flour-covered hand. Adam ventured forward and turned him, forcing Elias to look at him, "Listen to me. I  _couldn't_ do it, because  _he_ wasn't  _you."_

An age of tense silence filled the room while Adam waited for Elias to say something, anything, but he stood there, hands clenched into fists, flour on his face and in his mustache, tears still streaming down his face and dripping onto his shirt. Adam sighed, he couldn't wait forever, and brushed the tears off of Elias' face with his thumbs as he took the stubborn hobbit's face into his hands. "Don't you see, Elias? Elias, I-" he was on the cusp of saying something rash, like "I love you" or "I can't stand being the one who made you cry" when Cricket's voice said, alarmingly close-by, "Harfoot? Elias? Where are you? Open up the door, boy, we need to have a talk."

Adam looked around desparately, eyes landing upon a closed door and headed towards it, dragging Elias with him. Elias was unresisting, though he also didn't help Adam in any way as Adam yanked the door open, stepped inside, and pulled Elias in after him, just getting the door closed as he heard Cricket open the door opposite and enter the room. "Well, what is this? Flour and no Elias?" she sighed heavily and closed the door again, Adam holding his breath until he could be certain she had left and wasn't still lingering in the kitchen, perhaps cleaning up the flour or some other thing, but it was utterly silent on the other side. He breathed out again, relieved, and turned to face Elias. They were, apparently, in a broom cupboard. A very  _small_ broom cupboard, barely large enough to accommodate the both of them. As Adam turned, his body brushed against Elias' and he heard a quick intake of breath. His eyes were adjusting to the dark, though several shafts of light filtered around and through the door, and he could see Elias staring at him and there was no mistaking the flush to his cheeks nor the look in his eyes. He wanted Adam. 

Later, neither would be able to say who had moved first. All he knew was that the wall that had existed between them for nigh the entire summer was suddenly gone, as vanished into thin air as though it had never existed in the first place, and Elias' strong arms pulled him close, his mouth on Adam's, and they were kissing between one breath and the next. Adam's arms flew around Elias' neck and he pressed up against him, their slight height difference abruptly making itself known and making Adam work a little bit harder for it, moaning deep in his throat as he felt the hard ridge of Elias' cock pressing against his stomach through the layers of clothing they wore. He let one hand find itself between them to learn the shape and feel of it, the heat of it unexpected but entirely welcome, and Elias' hips jerked and he moaned and it was the most wonderful sound Adam had ever heard. Quickly followed by the second most beautiful sound, as Elias gasped harshly against his lips, "Oh, Adam, Adam..."

Adam, to his credit, stayed upright though he answered with a high-pitched keen he barely recognized as coming from his own lips as he latched onto Elias' throat with an ardor he had been suppressing for so long. They appeared to reach the same conclusion at the exact same moment, as well - that it was past time for any barrier at all to be between them, and they fumbled with desperate fingers at each other's clothing. The confines of the broom closet were less than ideal for disrobing for one person, let alone two, but enough buttons and laces were released to allow for shirt removal and to wiggle trousers down, taking longer than even that because for each article of clothing that was removed, they had decided to celebrate the success with a lavish kiss or two.  At long last, the last piece was kicked away and bare skin was against bare skin, and Adam's hands began to roam, exploring and caressing Elias' body, finding delight in every whimper and moan that escaped Elias' lips. Elias' hands, for their part, had landed on Adam's arse and he kneaded the flesh there with strong hands that Adam wanted to sink into. 

At this point, he was just as aroused as Elias, their cocks brushing against each other intermittently, pleasure lighting up his spine, and he was tempted to keep this going as long as was sustainable and find their pleasure that way, but that wasn't what he wanted for their first time. With one last lingering kiss to Elias' mouth, Adam sunk to his knees, bringing Elias' thick, proud cock to eye-level. This is what he wanted, to taste Elias and drink him down. Adam leaned close, pressing his ear to Elias' thigh as he licked around the base of his cock, looking up through his lashes to see Elias staring at him, stunned, his hands clenched once more at his sides, though now with a different emotion.

Adam blinked, curious. "Elias," he said, pulling away slightly, trying to be delicate with his words, "has... no one done this to you?"

Elias' cheeks reddened and his hands flexed before he consciously relaxed them, his thighs tensing, "Yes, of course, I --" Adam squinted at him and Elias' entire form (excepting his cock) sagged, "No. Just some kissing, not... not much else."

Adam blinked in surprised, somewhat elated he'd be Elias' first but also deeply concerned, "Are they all idiots in North Ork Oak?" he asked incredulously before he could stop himself. 

Elias looked like he wanted to say something, thought better of it, and shut his mouth again. Adam, for his part, leaned in and let his hands circle up the backs of Elias' thighs, rubbing sensuously against the hair he found there just for the pure tactile pleasure of it, before grasping the swell of his ass, digging his fingers into the firm muscle. He smiled reassuringly at Elias who had gone worryingly quiet and still as he watched, mouth agape, as Adam leaned forward and licked one of Elias' balls into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue. Elias cried out, quite loudly, and Adam sat back, alarmed. "Oh! Elias, you've got to be quiet, unless you want someone to find us and we won't get to finish what we've started." He felt along the floor with one hand, loathe to leave his station, and grabbed the first piece of clothing he touched. It was his waistcoat. Fine, the whole outfit was a loss, anyway. "Use this if you need to," Adam said, handing it to Elias.

Elias took the forest green satin in his fist absently, nodding all the while, "Sorry that was..." he seemed to be searching for the right word, " _vidunderlig,"_ he breathed, rapturous.

Adam smirked. "Oh? What's this, then?" Adam turned his attention to Elias' cock, the most magnificent he'd ever seen. Long, but not unduly so, thick enough to stretch his jaw and a foreskin that wasn't too lose or tight, that seemed to be movable. It was clean, it smelled like clean skin and cedar and faintly of sage-rosemary soap. He trailed a finger from Elias' balls to the cockhead, feeling it pulse and twitch in his touch, feeling impossibly larger. He followed the same path with his tongue, licking upward in a broad sweep that ended just below the head where the foreskin attached to the cock. He kissed it, then scraped his teeth gently against it, and pearly drops swelled at the slit, then spilled over onto his tongue. A muffled cry greeted this action and Adam glanced up to see Elias, eyes impossibly wide, his fist and the waistcoat thrust into his mouth. He wasn't going to last long, that much was clear, he was still new to this after all. 

Adam wrapped one hand around the base of Elias' cock and sucked the crown into his mouth, and Elias' hips jerked convulsively and he let out another muffled cry. Adam started squeezing his hand, rolling the foreskin between his fingers as he did so, feeling it bunch against his lips rhythmically as he suckled the cock tip, hollowing out his cheeks, taking more and more of Elias into his mouth as he did so. He tongued as best he could around his mouthful, breathing harshly through his mouth, as the hand that wasn't helping him along on Elias' cock massaged his balls and the area just behind them. He swallowed, and Elias' hips jerked again, and again. Adam grunted and pushed Elias back against the cupboard wall, his arm bracing Elias there as he gave up the ghost and started to bob his head, Elias trying to find a place to hold onto and finding nothing as he whined behind his makeshift gag. Elias, it appeared, was going to be a noisy lover and Adam simply could not wait until he could get him somewhere private and soft and hear all of his sounds.

Soon, however, Adam recognized the signs of an imminent climax. He could feel the tension building in Elias, his thighs shaking. 

Elias removed the cloth from his mouth, panting wildly, "I - I - I'm -" Adam hummed in agreement and the waistcoat was back in Elias' mouth as he keened and his knees bowed, shaking as a groan was ripped from him and his orgasm thudded through him like he'd never experienced something so intense before. 

Elias slumped against the wall, his chest heaving for breath, the waistcoat falling limply from his mouth as he dazedly looked in Adam's general direction and gave him a semblance of a grin. He sunk to the floor and Adam crawled into his lap, whispering hotly into his ear, "Next time, I want to wear you on me, Elias." Elias' arms flew around him and squeezed him tight as Elias' cock jerked feebly once again, spurting Adam's cock with the last of his release.  _How beautiful_ , Adam thought, looking down at Elias' recked face, remnants of his earlier tears and flour still clinging to him, his mouth dry from biting into Adam's waistcoat, flushed ruddy and eyes in a post-orgasmic daze. 

"What.." Elias cleared his throat, "What does it taste like? I've wondered but.. never was brave enough to try." 

Adam smirked, "Let me satisfy your curiosity, then," he said before pulling Elias into an open-mouthed kiss. Elias hesitated at first, then began to lick the inside of Adam's mouth, tasting himself for the first time. He pulled back, making a face. 

"There's no possible way you could like..  _that,_ " he said. 

Adam laughed softly, touching Elias' face tenderly, clearing some of the debris away. "I do, actually, though I do admit," he kissed him again, closed mouth this time, "it is an acquired taste." 

Elias hummed, distracted by Adam's cock that was still stiff... and curving slightly to the right. "Is... do you want that?" he sounded nervous, but eager, and Adam smiled. 

"One day, but not right now," he said, mock-seriously. "But for now, I have something else in mind. Is that all right?"

Elias nodded quickly, still avidly curious. Adam reached down and started playing with himself, peppering Elias' face with kisses as he did so, until landing on his lips and matching each stroke with a particularly lewd tongue movement. Elias, slowly as though he wasn't sure he was welcome, raised his hands up Adam's thighs and back to his ass, stroking the inside of the cleft as Adam thrust into his own hand. "Let me?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. Adam nodded and Elias took his hand to his cock like all he'd been waiting for was permission, and Adam had to brace himself on Elias' shoulders as he worked Adam's cock deftly with two hands, using the slick he'd gathered from the slit to work a finger inside Adam's ass, causing Adam to gasp and shake. Elias licked Adam's collarbones, worshipping him slowly now that he had what he wanted, working Adam up only to stop or slow once he felt he was getting close. 

He started to feel like they'd spent an age in that cupboard as Elias attentively watched Adam's face and body as he worked him slowly, methodically, like he did everything else. It was enough time that Elias' cock started to become interested in the proceedings and Elias stroked them together as he ventured another finger into Adam's hole and Adam swore he could feel every ridge of Elias' calloused hands inside him. He couldn't help but thrust, not knowing if he should push forward into Elias' fist or back onto his fingers. He gasped and groaned when Elias finally thought to lick and nibble his nipples. They moved together in a harmony Adam had never known with another, perfect balance and counter-balance. There were no other sounds, except for the slick sounds they were making and harsh breaths as they tried to stay quiet in the cupboard haven. 

That familiar tension, delicious and welcome, was gathering in Adam, and his thrusts and keens became shorter and sharper, Elias' whimpers that had been supplementing Adam's sounds now grew into moans.  _So... Close... "_ Ah - "

"I just don't know where he could have gone!" Aunt Cricket's voice sounded imminently close, dangerously slow, and Adam's hand flew to Elias' mouth and clamped down instinctively to prevent any further sound from escaping, from surprise or otherwise. 

"Well," Rose Gardiner was saying, "the flour on the counter says he's up to something good. Have you checked the cellar?"

Someone snapped their fingers, "That's it, oh you're ever so bright, no wonder Samwise married you!" Adam felt hysterical laughter threatening to jump at his throat, and just when it seemed irrepressible, Elias  _twisted_ the fingers inside him in such a delicious way, all thought left him and he didn't feel like laughing any more. Though he did glare down at Elias whose eyes sparkled with mischief and he was sorely tempted to exact revenge in some way, but too afraid to be caught to do anything in retailation. A few moments later, their chatter dissipated and Adam started moving again. He was too close to stop, even if he wanted to, but the image of the cupboard door opening, Cricket and Rose discovering them, Elias' fingers up his arse and their cocks his other hand. It was too scandalous, too delicious to last. He bucked with renewed vigor and Elias thrust a third finger inside, and all Adam could see was  _white_ as his orgasm was ripped through him, rippling through his whole body, into his toes and fingers, and he blindly bit Elias' chest in his ardor, causing the other hobbit to find another release between their chests. 

They panted together for a few moments, Elias slowly extracting his fingers from Adam, leaving him empty. "Come with me," Adam said impulsively, planting an open-mouthed kiss against Elias' sweaty neck and burrowing closer, "Elias, come to my smial and live with me. My aunt can find another handyman."

He was so convinced that Elias would agree, he was floored when Elias stiffened and pushed him away so Adam was forced to separate from him, leaving Adam floundering for what he'd said wrong. "Elias? What --"

"So  _that_ 's what this is about?" Elias thundered, standing and searching for his clothes. 

"Elias, I don't -"

" _'Come to my home, Elias, work for me instead. Cook and clean and warm my bed until I'm tired of you._ ' That's your game? Well, I won't do it, Adam Towers, not for anything." Triumphant, he held up his trousers and then put them on with his back to Adam.. Adam, who was struck dumb and could only sit there on the filthy floor wondering how things had gone completely and utterly sideways. "I'll be your lover, that'll be enough," Elias was saying, his back still towards Adam, doing up his trousers, "Even though you'll break my heart later on. It's true I wanted you the moment I set eyes on you. I tried to fight it, but now that I know what it's like to be with you I couldn't ever tell you "no". But I've heard the stories, Adam, and I will not work in your home and die a little inside every time you bring some piece or another into your bed after you've decided you're done with me. I may be a fool, but I still have pride."

Something ugly snapped inside Adam then, and rage filled him from his toes to the roots of his hair, "Are you serious? How can you believe that?" he stood, then, still stark naked, and turned Elias around by the braces on his trousers, stopping him from looking for his shirt. "Can you seriously believe, after what we just did, what we just shared, that I would be anything less than completely and utterly besotted with your bullish ass?" he grabbed Elias' shoulders and shook him, " _I love you_ , you daft _bull_!" Adam cried, heedless of being overheard, and took Elias' face between his hands, kissing him savagely hard without finesse, grinding their mouths together until he tasted blood - whose, exactly, he couldn't say. "Elias. I don't care if you ever step foot in a kitchen again, we can find another cook, we can find another handyman, I don't care. Elias, I'm offering you a place at my side and in my bed, forever, and a garden that needs your care and devotion as much as I do."

Elias blinked at him, uncomprehendingly. It was an intent, baleful look that made Adam feel even more naked than he actually was, as though he was searching Adam's very soul for veracity. Adam's heart began to waver, his bluster entirely gone, now. Had he ruined this - was this retribution for breaking so many other hearts?

Then, Elias finally spoke. "You've gone and cut your lip," he said softly, prodding the flesh with his thumb. "Let's hope this is the last hurt between us, hmm?"

It was Adam's turn to blink, confused. "So... Does that mean.. you'll come?"

Elias sighed, as if it were obvious. "Yes. I'll come. And gladly. I love you, too, whether or not that's returned is a problem for another day." He leaned in and kissed Adam with a gentleness that broke Adam's heart even as it made it whole again. 

"Oh, Elias," Adam whispered, his head drooped to rest against Elias' breastbone as his arms came to circle his waist, and Elias' arms surrounded him in turn and they held each other like that for several moments, something inside each of them settling and becoming whole.

Then Adam stepped back, giddy as a child, "Come along, Elias, let's go home."

Elias laughed, "What, naked? That'll give those gossipers something to talk about in town."

Adam made a face. "They'll talk anyway, but I guess getting dressed first  _is_ the proper thing to do." He looked up and down Elias' in just his trousers and braces, his front buttons half-undone. He made for quite the sight. "I don't want anyone else to see you like this, not now not ever. You're  _mine_ now," he winked, cheekily, tossing Elias his shirt. 

It was even more awkward getting dressed again, they kept bumping each other with elbows and knees, Adam accidentally head-butting Elias' soft belly with his head on one memorable occasion, but it only made them laugh, dizzy with happiness. Elias handed Adam his jacket and the until-now forgotten thin book thudded to the floor. "What's this?" Elias asked, picking it up, playing with the bow curiously. 

"A book, I had bought it for you," Adam divulged happily, straightening his collar and cuffs. "We can read it when we get home, if you like."

Elias straightened his spine, seemingly to broaden as he entertained the idea of  _home_ with  _Adam._ "Yes, I'd like that, I think."

Adam winked, opening the door to the kitchen just as Aunt Cricket and Rose entered from the other side, "Shall we, then?" Elias took his hand, and they left together, leaving a room or two of stunned silence in their wake. Aunt Cricket already had a sturdy stool and was reaching up high above the bread shelf for the Miruvor.

" _Finally_ ," she muttered, already mentally making plans to find her next cook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! Greenhands are related to the Gamgees, and Samwise Gardiner was previously, as you know, Samwise Gamgee, who is cousins with Adam in my story.
> 
> Miruvor is a drink made by Elves that is said to renew the drinker's strength, supposedly warm and fragrant.
> 
> Elanor really is a pretty yellow flower in LotR-universe and yes, Sam really did name his daughter that at the behest of Frodo.
> 
> Thank you for reading my FIRST MULTI-CHAPTER FIC THAT I ACTUALLY FINISHED OMG PRAISE BE TO BRYAN FULLER THROUGH WHOM ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fic, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> ((Also-also, there's another piece of art that Camille did that goes along with this story and I got distracted SO it may be something in the future. WATCH THIS SPACE))

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to comment if you liked it (or hated it) and concrit is always welcome. 
> 
> If you want to support me, my nonsense, and this story, you can always Buy Me a Coffee - link found on my twitter under the same name.


End file.
